“M, I don’t know where she is. Please find her!” I don’t have time to listen to his pleas, I need motherfucking facts.
“Emin, did she say if she was going to go somewhere after she built that fucking thing for your chickens?” I ask him.
“No, she said that she was going to come straight to you.”
“Emin, think fucking hard. Was there anything out of the ordinary? Did you notice anything?” I’m holding the phonelike my life depends on it. Lana does, and that makes all the difference in the world.
“Well, there was something weird. Not with her, but at my house.”
“What?” I ask through gritted teeth. The whole table has gone silent.
“I got mail while she was gone, but the postman doesn’t come around at that hour.”
“Grab your fucking mail right now and tell me what it says on there.” I want to ask him why he didn’t open it sooner, but that would be precious time wasted. After a minute, Emin returns to the phone.
“It’s an invitation to a party.”
“Emin! What does the invitation say?” My frustration is about to explode, and I might murder Emin over the fucking phone.
“That I’m invited to the Hummingbird Ball atInganno, tonight. What the fuck does that even mean?”
“I've got to go. I’m getting her back.” I hang up before he can respond. My ears were ringing earlier; now it’s quiet.
“I know where she is.”
“Where?” Oliver asks, and I see everyone reaching for their keys—ready to go.
“Inganno. It’s an upscale Italian restaurant just outside of Sarajevo.”
“Didn’t we have a job there?” Oliver asks me.
“We did, almost a year ago. Nole, the owner, asked us to kill his business partner. I never got to meet him, though.”
“M, what’s the name of the owner?” Sara asks, looking at me with a puzzled expression.
“Nole Cavicorm. Apparently, a tough motherfucker to get to.”
“M, listen to me carefully.” All eyes are on Sara now. “Rearrange the letters, it’s a fucking anagram!” I process the information, and my brain finally decides to start working.When I look at the rest of the team, they know what Sara was thinking about.
Leon Osmanovic.
“I did a fucking job for Lana’s father a fucking year ago? That fucker has been watching me for God knows how long!” I get my fucking coat and put on shoes, indicating to the others that they must do the same and follow my orders. We are walking toward my second apartment. At that apartment, I have weapons stored so I can be prepared every-fucking-where at any-fucking-time.
We all grab an earpiece and our choice of weapon.
Josh chooses a gun with a silencer.
Sara grabs two knives and a shotgun.
Oliver helps himself to a gun and one hand grenade.
Adam goes for a sniper rifle.
And me? I grab an assault rifle, along with a machete.
We are all ready to inflict some severe pain.
“Listen, what we are doing is on pure instinct. Nothing is planned, and maybe one of us will get hurt. Leon has proven that he is not to be trifled with.” I put intent on every word because I want my team to understand that this is out of the ordinary.
